


Splintered

by ipreferalligator



Series: Splintered [1]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Canon Disabled Character, Cherik - Freeform, M/M, Mental Illness, Minor Character Death, dad!Charles, glacial build, like seriously, slowest thing ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:50:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2087688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipreferalligator/pseuds/ipreferalligator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing the ability to walk, having to give up his job, Charles is certain that life can't get worse. </p><p>After he receives a letter telling him he fathered a child to a woman who has just been killed, he realizes that it can and has got worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A short prologue to open the story. Very short content.
> 
> My first work so I hope it isn't awful.

The accident was simple. It was something that anyone could experience but which Charles Xavier had suffered one dreary night; snow had fallen steadily, blanketing the streets of New York and the greater surrounding areas. Gloves fingers had remained tight on the wheel, tight enough that his knuckles had surely gone white, but Charles drove carefully, taking the turns at a little under the speed limit, brights on and reflecting off the piling snow.

He remembered a flash of light and the muffled tinkle of his cellphone going off and then nothing.

They never found who had hit him, sent the Oldsmobile careening off the road. The front had smashed through the old guard rail and the car had flipped, rolled down the hill. Charles was told that he had passed out, slipped into unconsciousness when his face had collided with the cold and unyielding steering wheel. He didn't need to be told. The blood that had caked along pale skin had been proof enough, forming a steady pool underneath his head as he had been forced in an upside position, the points of brown hair brushing in the slick of blood with the slight creek of an old car.

Charles doesn't remember much of that night. Raven told him that it was good, that there was no use obsessing over it. How can't he obsess over it? he thinks. It took his legs away from him and Charles knows it would be simpler if he had the closer of knowing who had done it, if he could at least remember turning over the hill.

It isn't easy. It certainly doesn't get easier but harder when he's released; Charles is adamant that he will care for himself, that he'll retain some semblance of Independence. Raven hires a night nurse when he is forced to admit that the level of care he had come to expect in New York's finest hospital is impossible to keep when you are coping with the pain of a broken spine, struggling to cope with the lose of limbs and the technicalities that comes with them.

 

* * *

 

Charles is certain that it can't get harder. He puts on a false sense of cheeriness. He handles each new difficult that comes with the new days. Time passes; he moves into a new flat although it's a sacrifice the he hates. Charles has to quit his job. Teaching is important to him but he can't do it, not adequately and he cares too deeply for the students to rob them of an education because ghost pains are distracting him. The fact that the school doesn't have a ramp is an inconvenience that he tells himself is moot. He isn't staying there after all.

"Just think of it as a vacation. Now you could get that cat you've always wanted." Is what Raven tells him over the phone three days after he informs his superiors of his decision and something crumbles inside of him when they do not argue. Rather, they sound relieved that he was the one to suggest it.

That consolation hangs in the air: it can't get harder.

 

* * *

 

It gets harder. One day a letter comes in the mail and Charles turned the heavy parchment envelope over in his hand, frowning down at the embellished words scrawled across the surface and his eyes drift to the address stacked in the corner.

Haller.

Once upon a time Charles knew a Haller. An Israelian beauty by the name of Gabrielle, they had had a short fling while he was abroad and that was it. It was not much of a story, nothing he had even bothered reporting back to his sister about. Confusion etches across his face and Charles slits the envelope open.

Two things fall out, a thick letter folded in thirds and a photograph. Charles lifted the letter first, opening it and blue eyes fell down the pages, mouth going dry and he felt the blood draining from his face. Fingers trembled and the papers slipped away from his grasp. It takes several long, deep breathes for Charles to lift the picture, as if he is afraid of what he might see and the Professor turns it slowly over.

It takes some force to turn his eyes to the figure in the Polaroid. He's small, dark haired. Complete Heterochromia, Charles thinks, running a forefinger across the curve of the child's jaw, round with youth and he looks so happy that it wrenches at Charles.

He is only a child. Too young to have lost his mother to a senseless killing but... Charles swallowed, bent in his chair and stretched his fingers, working to snatch the letter up and he rereads it. Ugly words leap out at him but it isn't these that he pays attention to.

Rather it's one important sentence that freezes Charles in place. 'As the father we feel you should take responsibility and see that David...'

David Haller. Charles is a father.

(It just got worse.)


	2. A bit of shock and terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven and Charles go to pick David up from the airport.

Charles had decided that he was able to care for himself alone a week before the letter had arrived and that meant that he had dismissed the friendly woman who had been assisting him for the most months. It was a decision which he regretted as he reread the letter for the umpteenth time, phone balanced on his shoulder and Raven's confused words rolling across the land line, telling him how ridiculous he was. That she wasn't a nanny and it wasn't her job to care for kids.

The hours that follow are a frantic scramble of the two as they buy up what looks like half the toddler isle of Babies R Us. Neither has any idea what they're doing and Charles can't help laughing loudly (maybe a little hysterically) as they argue over food types. He has a PHd for God's sake. How hard can caring for a child be? Bloody hard, it seemed. The books that they've bought confuse more than clarify and Charles feels like tearing his hair out at the end of the night. Which he lies awake, staring at the plane ceiling of his bedroom, chewing on the inside of his cheek and wondering what state he will find David in. The letter had informed Charles that the child had witnessed his mother's death, seen Gabrielle shot down, and that he hasn't been speaking.

Charles is utterly terrified by the prospect of raising a child, handling any troubles which he might have on top of his own. There is no way, absolutely not, that he is wiling to turn his back on David however. Charles won't do that. This is a second chance for them both and someone needs to be there for the small boy. Raven hires help to redecorate Charles's study completely, turning it into a room for David in two days flat.

They're pressed for time, they've found out. Charles had called a number on the back of the last piece of parchment, speaking to the woman on the other end for hours and it was once he had told her that he was definitely taking David in that she had given a polite sniff and then, "He will be on a plane there this Friday. I will send details when I have them." This Friday is only a day away and Charles is frantic. He forgets to brush his hair when they go to meet the plane from Paris, fingers racking through it and blue eyes hidden by sunglasses. He placed his hands flat to the wheels of his chair, pushing himself forward, swallowing down doubts and apprehension. Raven was shifting nervously in place, holding tightly to the straps of her purse and a Styrofoam cup that looks as if it is about to give way under the sheer pressure of her finger tips.

 

"I don't know what I'm going to do." Charles muttered, sharing some of the many doubts with Raven, glancing back towards the blond woman, who offered him a pinched smile in turn. She had not been happy at the news that he had a child with a woman that was practically stranger, more so by the fact that she had kept David a secret. Both knew that if Haller hadn't been attacked Charles would likely have never found out about the boy.

 

* * *

 It is another half hour before the plane skids across the tarmac and Raven and Charles wait, looking through the large glass pane at the figures getting off the plane. The first glimpse of David tells Charles that he is a lot smaller than the picture showed. A young woman is holding David, carefully descending the steps and glancing along the backs of the other passengers. Charles barely registered the sound of the camera on Raven's phone clicking, recording the moment in a pixilated image.

"Come along, love." Charles wheeled forward, waiting and drumming his fingers as people file past and then, finally, there the French woman is. Holding his son. "He fell asleep." She murmured, voice soft but her accent thick, shaping the English to something sloppy.

Charles swallowed, looking up at the boy. Soft features like a cherub, brown hair the same exact shade as his tousled and messed. The woman looked equally surprised, staring down at him but for once he didn't care, didn't feel that twinge of annoyance as her eyes racked over the chair. Rather, Charles lifted his arms, gesturing for her to hand him David. "May I hold him?"

 

* * *

 

David slept the whole ride home and the Frenchwoman, Monique, had handed over a bag of clothes and toys, which were now pushed inside of the short dresser that Charles had chosen for the boy's room. Charles swung the chair around just as mismatched eyes snapped open.

 

"Oh, he- " He was cut off instantly but a loud, piercing cry. The children sliding back on his bed away from Charles. He pushed the chair forward but stopped, raising his hands in surrender, "David, I'm,"

"What's going on?" Raven had appeared in the door way just as David's wail cut off. Shooting a look of concern between them, which Charles answered with helpless confusion before they both turned their eyes to David. He was sitting on the very edge of the quilted blanket, hands pressed over his eyes, small chest rising and falling rapidly. "That's some welcome..."

Raven stepped into the room, inching close before she knelt, hands pressed flat to the blanket and stared across the short separation of space at the toddler. "David?" It was a gently nudge, words softer than Charles had ever heard them before and the child drew in a watery sigh, fingers splaying apart. He peeked out at her, tears leaving damp tracks down flushed cheeks. "Hello, David...I'm Raven. That's," She gestured back at Charles, who remained rooted in place, unwilling the risk of pushing himself forward. "Charles. "

"Monique said that she explained what was happening. That you were coming to live with your daddy. Do you remember?" A slow nod answered, neither of them certain if he was actually comprehending this. Their experience with children was limited to the occasional visit to friend's that had children, but the majority of those were older and rarely around.

Dr Spock hadn't been much help either. "Charles is your daddy." David's hands slowly dropped, twisting in the jumper he wore. As he watched them, looking scared and the picture of upset, he swallowed and both Charles and Raven held their breath.

 

"I want my mummy."


	3. Daycare is difficult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is introduced.

Erik Lehnsherr was a happy man. It was a given, as a father, that he was supposed to be but that didn't mean that he was kind or warm to anyone but the children he was now responsible for and those that he took care of every day.

 

Because Erik Lehnsherr was a day care teacher.

 

Every day he was handling children that no one else would take on, something he had become interested in only when his own son, Pietro, had been ejected from one too many places because the teacher couldn't handle him on top of other children. Blessed with ADHD Pietro, who he had taken to calling Peter, was often bouncing off the walls and driving his caregivers up them and thus, Lehnsherr Daycare was born. It was a small business but well established in the community after several years, enough that he had the usual customers coming and going, which had let him hire a pleasant and rather nonchalant girl by the name of Angel, young but street wise and she managed the children well (though he knew that the tattoos peeking from underneath sleeveless blouses had caused raised eyebrows from several parents).

All of this had led Erik to believing that he was a rather thoughtful and considerate person to those with differences to himself despite his rather cold nature. That was until one day when he heard a shrill 'beep, beep' and glanced around the daycare, at the children who ran across his path, or those playing with a wild assortment of toys. None new, therefore not responsible for the noise.

Frowning, Erik was part way to the window when Angel called out. "There's a car out front, Erik." Not a new occurrence by any stretch, nor worth announcing in his opinion and he was certain this showed in the look he flashed towards the young woman, because she was soon elaborating. "The guy doesn't seem willing to leave it...so."

'So' obviously meant to conclude that he was expected to go out there to see to them. Of all the presumptuous, arsehole moves... Erik's thoughts turned uglier as he turned and headed to the door. He was going to tell them that they were booked solid, couldn't see to the child. The steel laced words died on his tongue when he saw the person waiting, a young man, dark hair combed back, hands resting on a small child's back, leaning back in a wheel chair. One door to the car stood open, clearly the source of the noise.

Erik glanced around the building, immediately realizing the problem: there was no ramp.

 

"Hello." It was a soft word, rounded in an accent from a country Erik hadn't seen in years. He moved down the steps and walked the short distance to where man sat and glanced down, catching sight of bright blue eyes, the brightest he could remember seeing, and found that he had yet to respond.

Which was responsible for the rushed, "Hello, sorry." that spilled forth and Erik shifted in place, eyes remaining fixed on the man and the child, who appeared to have fallen asleep as they sat. "I'm Erik Lehnsherr. I'm one of the people that run the day care, I'm taking it that's why you're here?"

Charles nodded, shifting the chair carefully and pushed the car door shut before he wheeled forward, closer to Erik. One hand raised, lifted up towards him. "Charles Xavier, perspective client. I would have come inside right off, but it proved a problem." He said as Erik took his hand, giving it a firm shake before he was released and offered another apology, no doubt for the ramp. Or lack thereof. "It is nice to meet you. This is David, my son." Charles patted the small boy gently on the back, though he didn't rouse.

Erik remained silent for a short moment, looking at Xavier and considering it. The daycare center was one for difficult child, ones with problems that no one else would handle or those that were repeat offenders, as far as five and up could go in the educational system. David seemed quiet, sleeping peacefully against Charles's rather ugly cardigan and that was something that wasn't often seen in his students. "You realize this is a day care center for children that suffer from ADD and other conditions? There's a rather nice care facility two blocks down that would,"

Charles had started to speak over him, raising one hand. He wore an apologetic expression, brows furrowed slightly. "I'm sorry, it's just that...I do know this. I chose your place over all the rest because I believe it will be better suited for David. He has some...problems, which I would feel better discussing in private but as I can't exactly get inside of your building, I could come back another time? If you are willing to make adjustments and hear my reasons." Normally Erik would have been offended and immediately brushed anyone who so brusquely interrupted him aside. Charles was a curiosity though, something that Erik couldn't pinpoint as he stood there, looking down at him...no matter, he knew that he owed everyone child the chance of an environment that would be productive and nurturing for their specific needs. "

Yes. I could call you once we put a ramp in, if you like?" The exchange of numbers passed relatively quickly and Charles excused himself, maneuvering himself back to the car, fastening David into his seat before he managed to get himself into the car and the wheelchair both.

Erik was already inside yet stood, peeking through the animal decorated curtain. He was absorbed in watching the scene before him to such a degree that he hadn't noticed Angel approaching."So, what are we looking at?" She asked, adopting a sing-song tone to her voice, smirking at the way that Erik immediately stiffened, back straightening and the curtain fell shut as he turned around to look at her.

"A client. Well, a prospective one. We have to build a ramp." Erik did not bother to look back, knowing that Angel would be wearing an incredulous expression and he could even hear it in the quick "what?" that followed him to the back room, where he lifted the phonebook from the office desk, intent on flipping through it to find a contractor.

 

 

* * *

 

Charles had had David for three years now. Time had flown by and before he knew it, he had a six year old whom had the emotional problems better fitted to someone in their thirties. He had broke down and started crying when a friend had suggested that perhaps, just perhaps, David needed therapy and it was Raven who consoled him over the phone for the next hour, pressing that maybe they were right.

In the end, David had been placed in the capable hands of a Moira Mactaggert. He had been there for half a year now and Charles had had to deal with one day care rejecting David because of his temper tantrums and the increasingly sporadic way that he behaved. As much as it pained Charles to admit, he needed special care. Which was how he had discovered Lehnsherr Daycare, it was a place that was addressed on many online forums as the place for children with difficulties in behavior, temperament, even handicaps. Charles had found it notably humorous that the place lacked a ramp when he had arrived but the promise that one would be put in made it seem just as perfect as it had been described;  the man that he had met outside had seemed remotely standoffish but otherwise willing to please.

 

Which was proven when he received a call back only a week and a half later, soon finding himself in a rather cluttered office on the weekend, explaining that David had been known to start fires, to flood bathrooms and to do things more suited to unruly teenagers than a six year old. Erik smiled at him across the desk, looking sympathetic and when a quiet lull settled over them, Erik spoke up. "We would be happy to welcome David in."

 

"He can be...quite a handful." Charles said, slowly and deliberate. The last thing he wanted to do was have Erik change his mind but it was only fair to put it out there, to push home that it wasn't going to be easy, not now or ever. "I just have started to work longer hours and David needs this sort of care, someone that understands that he isn't a menace or trying to do anything truly harmful."

 

Erik nodded, fingers steepling together. "I understand, Mr Xavier. You may drop David off starting Monday."

 

Charles smiled brightly, not noticing the way Erik's eyes shifted across his features as he lent forward, arm stretching forward, which Erik took and shook. "Thank you so much. This means the world to me." Resting his hands back on the wheels of his chair, Charles gave a slight nod of his head, considering it. The place looked great, properly put together and the young woman who had let him in was entertaining and nice, if chatty. "I guess I'll see you then, won't I?"

 

"Yes." He stood, walking along behind Charles as the wheelchair turned carefully and he pushed himself out of the cramped office and into the front of the building, wheeling slowly to the door. "Have a safe drive, Mr Xavier."

 

Charles tossed him a look over the back of the chair, the bright smile still fixed to his face. "Charles, please call me Charles. Good bye." 

 

Erik had no idea what he was getting himself into as he raised a hand, standing in the door way of the daycare, watching as the other man pushed himself down the ramp and headed to the car. "Drive safely, Charles." He called out, ignoring the quiet snicker of laughter that came from the desk behind him. Really, he had no idea what he was doing.


End file.
